The Island
by musical geek
Summary: After winning the lottery, the Matthews family and company take a trip to a vacation resort that ends in disaster—stranded on a seemingly deserted island with a girl full of secrets.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

**A/N:** I should give the forewarning for anyone who doesn't like these types of stories that if there were an option to give a third genre for this story, it would be supernatural. I just figured adventure and family were more crucial to the story and any supernatural elements are more secondary.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_ - Time gap in story, sometimes also shift in POV.

## - Shift in POV, without any time gap.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Shawn clutched the armrests of his chair. He dimly noticed himself grabbing John's hand beside him. The airplane shook around them, the turbulence growing more and more violent as the seconds drew on. An oxygen mask hung in front of him. He ignored it. John had tried to get him to put it on, but Shawn noticed John was ignoring his, too. Looking around, it seemed Cory was the only one who even bothered. What was the point? It was almost cruel to be taunting them with something that was supposed to help but would really accomplish so little. They'd all be crashing in the ocean any time now. He shut his eyes, waiting.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Three Weeks Earlier_

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"Hey, Cor," Shawn said as he walked into the Matthews' house. He didn't even bother knocking anymore. Mrs. Matthews had more or less told him he was family, so the standard courtesy rules didn't really apply anymore. For years, his way of going in and out of the house was through Cory's window with or without permission, so he just shrugged and started using the door instead.

"Hey, Shawn," Cory greeted. He was seated at the kitchen table looking through an old yearbook.

Shawn headed straight over for the fridge and grabbed a soda before making himself comfortable on the counter behind his friend. "What's made you all nostalgic?"

"Nostalgic?" Cory said. "That's a big boy word."

"I'm living with an English teacher. It was bound to rub off on me sooner or later."

"If you were living with Feeny, I could see that, but Turner is more on our level."

"He promised he'd let me learn how to drive his bike if and when I finished all the summer reading. I don't think he thought I would actually do it." Shawn smirked. He remembered that conversation. John promptly quizzed him on everything he read before he would believe him, then commented on how Shawn never finished any homework that fast. Shawn pointed out he'd never had the incentive before. He didn't think he had ever seen John as scared as he was when he started teaching Shawn the controls on the bike and let him take it for a spin around a parking lot. Really, what did the man expect? The man owned a Harley and had a rebellious teen living with him. Did he really think the two wouldn't collide someday?

It had been several weeks since he had gone back to living with John after everything at the Center. He remembered how much he had fought Turner's attempts at finding a bigger place for the two of them to live before his dad finally came back in town and he moved back in with him. He had told Cory back then that he was tired of moving around and he wanted his next move to be permanent—to be with his dad. What he hadn't realized then was that the word "permanent" never applied to Chet Hunter and never would. It wasn't long after Verna came back that his parents started fighting again. She stuck around for several months before deciding she was leaving for good this time. Nothing could change her mind—not Shawn, not the well-intentioned Cory, and sure as hell not her good-for-nothing soon-to-be ex-husband. Chet tried to stick around for Shawn's sake, but not hard enough. He lasted maybe a week before he took off as well. He had been restless the entire time he stayed stationary there. Shawn pretended not to notice, but it was like Chet was a caged bird. It wasn't that great of a shock when he left.

He didn't tell anyone until he left the Center. It was then John signed the papers Chet had mailed him previously, making the guardianship official and permanent. Shawn didn't fight it this time. Between his dad abandoning him and John coming to the Center with Mr. Matthews to have a serious talk with Mr. Mac—a talk that ended with both John and Mr. Matthews outright threatening the man, only backing off at the mention of a lawsuit—he realized that accepting John's offer was the smart move. They started looking for a bigger place once school let out.

Shawn blinked out of his thoughts and refocused on his friend, or more specifically at the year-old yearbook his fried was studying. "You didn't answer my question," he pointed out. "What's with the yearbook?"

Cory looked up from the book and met his gaze. His eyes had a glazed look, like he had been lost in thought. The fact he kept staring at the same page backed this theory up. He didn't have to know his friend even half as well as he did to tell something was bothering him.

"You know, it's been over a year since Kim Bailey died," Cory said.

"We didn't even really know her."

"I know. It's just . . . she was in our homeroom since 7th grade and just like that, some psychopath just up and decides to kidnap and kill her just because of some stupid Celtic-like necklace she had."

Shawn knew Cory. He cared a lot—sometimes almost too much—but this wouldn't come out of nowhere . . . not after a year. "What brought this on?"

"There was a news special on last night. I caught the end of it before the new _Family Matters_ started. I think what really made it sad was I don't think anyone knew her that well. I was talking to Topanga. She said the girl didn't have any friends."

Shawn vaguely remembered the girl. She was a blond hair, blue eyed beauty who carried herself with this confidence that most girls in their grade had yet to master. It didn't take him long to ask her out, but she turned him down with barely a glance. She was pretty standoffish, from what he recalled. The school had offered counseling services after the cops found her body, but no one seemed to take advantage of the offer. They were all more shocked that something like that happened to someone in their school than they were upset to lose that girl in particular. It didn't surprise Shawn that it bothered Cory, who always placed so much importance on what others thought of him. It was pretty sad, when he thought about it.

"They never caught the person responsible," Cory continued. "The special gave a tally count of how many murders they linked to this serial killer. I can't remember the exact number, but it was a lot."

Shawn stood, closed the book in front of his friend, and pulled it away. "Stop depressing yourself. It's summer. Enjoy it." The two friends looked at one another when they heard excited yelling coming from the next room over. "What's that about?"

"Beats me," Cory said.

They glanced at one another again before rushing to see for themselves.

Mr. Matthews was alternating between hugging his wife and jumping up and down, often bringing her along with him. She seemed just as excited as he was.

"We won. We won," Mr. Matthews said when he saw them standing there.

"Won what?" Cory asked.

"The lottery! We won the jackpot!"

"His employees bought him a ticket for boss's day," Mrs. Matthews explained. The wilderness store had been doing so well within the past few months, they had decided to hire extra help so they could run it for longer hours and he wouldn't have to be there all the time.

"Cool," Cory said. "How much did you win?"

"86 million," Mr. Matthews said.

"_Eighty-six_ . . ." Cory repeated, jumping into the celebration with his parents. "We're rich. We're rich, Shawny, we're rich!"

Shawn stared at him open-mouthed for a minute before the words processed. "We're rich." He opened his arms and went over to join the party. It didn't matter right now that it didn't seem real. If it was a dream, he would be happy for the dream version of his friend. If it were real, here's to hoping they didn't end up in bad shape like so many others who won big. Right now, it was just a happy time with his friend.

The next several days went by in a blur. The Matthews claimed the money. There was only one other winning ticket, so they made it big time with this. Shawn was happy for them. Really, he was, but he just couldn't shake this feeling that something would go wrong. Nothing good in his life ever seemed to last—except for his friendship with Cory and hopefully the guardianship thing with John. True, he wasn't the one who won, but his best friend's family did. Nothing bad ever happened to Cory, though, so everything would be alright. It would have to be.

After claiming the money, Mr. Matthews gave all of his employees nice bonus checks and started planning a vacation with his family. Cory insisted both Shawn and Topanga come along, since Shawn was practically his brother and Topanga was practically his wife. His parents didn't take to the wife comment too well. They went into a spiel about how he and Topanga were way too young to be thinking about marriage or anything that went along with it. Shawn chimed in that the two had been married since they were two, so what difference did it make? Cory appeased them all by pointing out that it was just an expression. They were going into their junior year. They hadn't even started talking about tying the knot yet, so everyone could just relax. That crisis averted, the Matthews adopted the "why not" attitude. They certainly had enough money to go around. They could afford to bring extra people along. It was Shawn's idea to drag John into the mix. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews were happy to extend the invite. They liked Jonathan. It would be nice to have another adult they could spend time with. Shawn suspected the real reason they went for it was so they would have extra help with him and the rest of the kids, being outnumbered and all. Whatever the reason, he and John were getting to go on vacation to some exotic island resort somewhere—the Dominion . . . Domino . . . Dorito . . . something Republic. He wasn't complaining.

Before he knew it, the plane landed and he and the gang arrived in paradise. The resort was beautiful. There were palm trees everywhere, pools, restaurants, and all . . . and the best part, their hotel was right on the beach. The sand was so light, it barely even looked brown. The water was a clear-crystal blue. The sun was hot. A gentle breeze blew. It was amazing.

They weren't even there ten minutes before Cory, Shawn, and Topanga were all in their beachwear and soaking up the sun on the sand.

"This is the life, my Shawn," Cory said.

"Yeah, Cor. Sure is," Shawn said as he enjoyed the front row seat to real-life Baywatch babes parading by. Sunglasses were one of the best inventions known to man. He could gawk all he wanted and claim no one had any proof he was looking at them.

"It's so beautiful here," Topanga said. "Cory, if we ever get married, I want to live here or somewhere like here."

"You got it, babe. We'll buy a house on the beach. It'll be great."

"What about me?" Shawn asked.

"You'll get the guest house."

"I can live with that."

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Cory stared down at the wad of cash his dad had given him, Shawn, and Topanga. It was their allowance . . . and boy was it an allowance. He could get used to this.

"So, my favorite two people in the world, what do you want to do? The sky is the limit here people. We can do whatever we want," Cory said.

"Cory," Topanga said, "don't you think you should be responsible with this? I mean, I know it's a lot of money, but it's not unlimited. Haven't you heard all those stories about the people who win big? Many of them end up bankrupt."

"Oh, stop being a buzz kill. It's my parents who have to be responsible. I'm just a kid. They expect me to throw it all away. If I don't, I'll be disappointing some universal status quo."

"Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh. What uh-oh? What could possibly go wrong with this?"

"Oh, here we go," Shawn said.

"Ooh, look! A coconut stand!"

"Remind me why I love him . . . ." Topanga said.

Cory strolled right over to the coconut stand, with his girlfriend and best friend trailing along. "How much are the coconuts?" he asked the stand owner.

"160 pesos."

"160 pesos. That's insane."

"Cory, honey, one American dollar equals 41.50 pesos."

"Oh, well okay then." Cory leafed through the money in his hand and alternated looking between that and the stand. "I'll buy all of them, please. And might as well throw in the stand too."

"_Perdone, señor_?"

Topanga turned on Cory and folded her arms. "What are you going to do with a coconut stand?"

"Well, I'm going to stand by it and eat the coconuts. Duh."

"Why?" Shawn asked.

"Because I can." He ignored the blatant eye rolls from both Topanga and Shawn.

Topanga pulled the money out of Cory's hands and started counting through it. "_Tres, por favor_," she said, handing the correct amount over.

The still confused shopkeeper took the money and handed over the three requested coconuts.

"Three? I believe I asked for all of them."

"Cory, let's go." Topanga grabbed his arm and started pulling him away

.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx_

John looked up when he heard the hotel door slam. The kid ran his hand through his hair, a sign he'd learned meant he was either trying to get a girl's attention or he was upset about something. Considering there weren't any girls around, that only left option number two.

"Shawn, you okay?" he asked.

Shawn glanced at him briefly before going to sit down on one of the chairs by the balcony. John followed along behind him.

"It's Cory. It's like ever since his dad won the stupid lottery he's gone all rich snob on everyone." Shawn looked out the window. "I don't want to lose my best friend, John, but I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

"He just gave a waiter an 830 peso tip after ordering five appetizers, the three most expensive meals on the menu, and every dessert they offered, just because he could. And did I mention he bribed them before we sat down to allow us to skip the wait and get seated at their best table immediately, regardless of the fact other people had been waiting a half hour or more before we even showed up?" Shawn gave a humorless laugh. "He's turning into one of those people I always hated when going out—the ones who won't even look at you, because they think you're no better than the scum they have their servants scrape off the bottom of their shoes."

"Hunter," John started, "Matthews has been your best bud for how many years now? He's not going to look down on you."

"Maybe not yet. But it's not just that. He's not the Cory I grew up with, who painted Feeny's fence to earn some money so he could afford a super soaker and join in with our water wars, only to return it and trade it in for two smaller ones so his dad could have one after his dad fixed the mess of a job Cory had done."

"Have you talked to him about any of this?"

"No." Shawn started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I don't think there's any reasoning with him. I mean the guy tried to buy a coconut stand."

What? John shook his head. He didn't even want to know. "Well, the way I see it, you can give up without even trying and throw away a lifelong friendship over this or you can talk to him and maybe help him find who he is again." John felt a small sense of victory when Shawn looked up at him. "So, what's it gonna be."

Shawn looked back out the glass doors. "He's never given up on me. I think I owe him a couple hundred second chances."

John caught his gaze again. "Then I'm sure you'll figure out some way to get through to him."

Shawn nodded. "Yeah, I guess I will."

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"Hey, Cor. Can I talk to you a minute?" Shawn hesitantly walked towards his friend. Cory was sitting out on the balcony of his and Eric's shared hotel room.

"Yeah. Sure. What's up?"

Shawn sat down in the chair next to Cory. "I'm not sure if there's a good way to say this or not, so I'm just gonna say it."

"Okay," Cory said. "Should I be worried?"

"You've been a jerk lately."

"What?"Cory stood up and looked down at him. "What did I do? Please, tell me, because I don't have even the slightest—"

"Cory, just think about how you've been acting. You've been throwing that money around like it's nothing."

"It's not like I've been hoarding it. I've been spending it on you and Topanga, too, or have you forgotten?"

"I don't want your stupid money."

Cory looked thoroughly confused for a minute. "Why?"

"Cory, I grew up in a trailer park. We had hardly anything. My parents had to work hard for every penny we had until dad lost his job. I hated it when we were on welfare. I don't want any handouts. You just got lucky. That money fell into your lap and you're acting like it's yours by right."

"You're jealous."

Shawn stood up to face him at that. "No, I'm not. I just think you've been taking all of this too far."

"No, you're jealous I have money and you don't. You've always been jealous of my family and my house and everything, and now that we're rich, you just can't take it anymore."

"I have John. Things are great. All of that is in the past."

"Then what's all this about, huh?"

"It's about you, Cory, and the snob who replaced my best friend."

"So I'm a snob, now, am I?"

"Yeah. You are."

Shawn watched Cory struggle with that for a bit. "Then if I'm such a snob, get out of here. Snobs don't hang around trailer trash like you."

Shawn just stood there glaring at his friend before finally brushing past him. He didn't look back.

##

Cory leaned his arms on the balcony railing, watching the waves crash against the shore. Who did Shawn think he was? Shawn was the one with the problem, not him. Wasn't he?

He wasn't sure how long he stood there before Topanga joined him. Eric must have let her in. He glanced over at her before returning his gaze to the ocean. "Do you think I'm becoming a snob?"

"Yes." There wasn't even any hesitation. It was just a bluntly honest fact. "Cory, you know I love you. Nothing can change that, but you have gone a bit overboard with all of this."

Cory nodded. "You know, it's strange. When dad first won all that money, I thought that was the best thing that ever happened to us. Now I'm not so sure." He turned to face Topanga. "I think I may have really screwed things up with Shawn."

"No, you didn't," Topanga said. "You owe him an apology, but he knows you weren't really being you. He asked me to talk to you . . . said he thought I might have a better chance at getting through to you than he did."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I think he went for a walk to clear his head."

"Thanks, Topanga." He left to go in search of his friend. He couldn't rely on his knowledge of Shawn's usual hiding spots here, but he knew he could find him anyways. If all else failed, he could wait for him in his hotel room.

He eventually found him after wandering aimlessly on the beach. Shawn was sitting in the sand and writing in a notebook. Probably just the result of another incentive thing from Mr. Turner. He sat down next to him. "What are you writing?"

"Just stuff."

"Cool."

They sat there awkwardly while Cory tried to figure out how to say what he came here to say. "I'm sorry, Shawn. I shouldn't have called you trailer trash. That's not who you are at all. And you were right. I am the world's biggest snob."

"I don't know that I'd call you the world's _biggest_ snob, you'd have a long way to go to get there—more like the world's quirkiest snob." Shawn gave a small smirk.

"Quirky, huh?"

"Or Corky."

"Huh. So are we cool?"

"Yeah. We're cool."

The two friends sat there for a while, talking about any random topic that popped to mind.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx_

The rest of their vacation week passed without much incident. They just enjoyed it for the amazing trip that it was. Cory had returned to being Cory—a little richer, a little wiser, but Cory, nonetheless. Aside from the private plane Mr. Matthews paid for so they would have a nice trip back to Philly, the rest of the family seemed to be staying true to themselves. Shawn was reluctant to leave when the time came. This little pocket of paradise was the first trip he had ever taken that hadn't involved a road trip in his old trailer. All the same, he guessed it would be nice to get back home.

They arrived at the airport and unloaded all of their suitcases from the shuttle bus. Shawn noticed a couple and who he assumed to be their daughter exiting the shuttle as well. The man kept checking his watch and muttering about how there was no way they would make their plane in time. The woman tried to placate her husband, but she, too, looked frazzled. Their daughter just looked annoyed.

He found himself staring at the girl. Her long black hair was pulled up by one of those hair clamp things. She wore a necklace that looked strangely familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before. It had some kind of cross symbol in the middle of it, surrounded by wispy spiral like shapes. His blue eyes met her brown ones for a brief moment when she caught him staring. He looked away and went back to looking for his duffel bag.

"According to this, our plane should be close," Mr. Matthews said. He was looking at some official looking papers.

"Do we need to go into the terminal to check in?" Mrs. Matthews asked.

"No, I don't think so. Since it's a private plane, I think we just go there directly and pay the pilot."

"Excuse me, sir, I couldn't help overhearing. Did you say you have a private plane?" Shawn looked over to see the man he had noticed before. He had slightly graying black hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses. The man checked his watch again.

"Gary," the other brunette woman admonished. She turned towards them. "I'm sorry. You'll have to excuse my husband."

"It's okay," Mr. Matthews said. "We do have a private plane. We're heading back to Philadelphia in about a half hour or so."

"Oh, thank God," Gary said. "We're late for our plane back. The flights out of here are booked solid for the next few days. If we don't leave now, we'll be stuck another week. We have to get back home."

"That's our problem, honey. Not theirs. We'll manage," the woman said.

"But what about Daniela?" Gary put his arm around his daughter. For a second, it almost looked like she wanted to shove it off before her expression went blank. "We need to get her back. We don't have health insurance coverage here. We never should have come here in the first place."

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Matthews asked, concerned.

Daniela closed her eyes a moment and swallowed. "It's fine. They're just overreacting. I'm sorry my _parents_ have to be such drama queens."

Gary seemed to tighten his grip on her shoulder. "No, honey, it's not fine. We need to get you back to the hospital. If you miss your scheduled treatment, your condition could worsen. You don't want that, do you?" Daniela frowned. Gary turned back to Mr. Matthews. "Please, sir, if you have any room to spare . . . . I'll pay you whatever you want. I just . . . ." He seemed to choke up. Shawn could swear he saw Daniela roll her eyes. "We need to get her back home."

Everyone just seemed to stare at one another for a while. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews glanced at one another.

"Gary, Daniela, come on," the woman said. "We've wasted enough of their time." The trio started to walk away.

"Alan," Mrs. Matthews prompted.

"Wait," Mr. Matthews said. "We've got room. It's a direct flight, so it should get you back faster." Gary started to pull out his wallet. "Don't worry about it."

"Thank you," Gary said, reaching out to shake Mr. and Mrs. Matthews's hands. "Thank you. I'm Gary Wilson, by the way, and this is my wife, Ellie, and my daughter, Daniela."

"It's Dani," the teen corrected, her smile forced.

They gave introductions all around before looking for their plane. Shawn's jaw almost dropped when they found it. For a private plane, it was pretty big. He'd assume Mr. Matthews rented out a full 747 or something, if he didn't know any better. They boarded the plane and took off in no time.

The inside of the plane, while smaller than it would seem from the outside, was more spacious than the one they came in on. The front of the passenger area looked like an average plane, with slightly less cramped seats than normal. Behind those seats, however, was an area set up more for entertaining. There were plush seats on both sides, facing towards the center. There was a mini-fridge filled with soda and stuff. There was a big screen TV mounted on the wall at the back of the plane. Everyone moved back to this area as soon as the pilot turned off the seat belt sign.

The Wilson family sat awkwardly together, with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson on either side of Dani. Mr. Wilson kept checking his watch and looking out a window behind him. His right hand gripped his carry-on duffel bag. Dani's expression was unreadable, but her posture was stiff, like she was uncomfortable—probably because of whatever medical condition she had, Shawn figured. Mrs. Wilson clutched onto her purse like she wouldn't give it up for anything. Mr. Matthews had tried being gracious and offering to put the duffel bag and purse in the overhead compartments, but they both refused the offer.

The attachment Mrs. Wilson had to her purse was almost unnatural. Sure, he knew some girls could be really possessive about their purses, but this lady was to the point of being insane. She had dropped it on the way into the plane. He bent down to pick it up and give it back to her, but she had snatched it back up before he even had a chance to grab it. He caught a glimpse of something black and shiny—probably a compact or something.

"So, Dani, is it?" Morgan started. "What do you have?" Mrs. Matthews gave her a reproachful look—Shawn guessed that was probably due to lack of tact.

Before Dani could answer, Mr. Wilson said "Narcolepsy" and Mrs. Wilson said "Epilepsy" at the same time.

"Apparently something that ends with '-epsy,'" Dani said dryly.

Mrs. Wilson gave a forced smile in response. "That's our girl. Despite everything, she's still got a sense of humor."

Mr. Wilson stared at his watch like it was his lifeline or something before glancing back out the window again. "I hate flying," he said when he caught Shawn staring. "It always makes me nervous being this high in the air."

"I used to be the same way," Topanga said. "It's really not that bad. It's actually one of the safest forms of travel."

"Except there's less of a chance of survival if you crash." He glanced down at his watch again before almost immediately covering his mouth. "I think I'm gonna be sick. If you'll excuse me . . . ." He ran back towards the front of the plane to the only bathroom they had, still clutching his duffel bag.

"He's really attached to that thing, isn't he?" Shawn commented to no one in particular.

Mrs. Wilson stared down the direction her husband went. She didn't move for a minute until she seemed to see something she was looking for. She reached into her purse. Dani's posture seemed to become even stiffer than it was before, if that were even possible. Mrs. Wilson stood and pulled out that black shiny thing.

Shawn's eyes widened when he saw what it was. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Cory pull Topanga closer to him and Mr. Matthews grab hold of Mrs. Matthews's hand and move to shield Morgan.

"Hand over the money. All of it," Mrs. Wilson said, pointing the gun unwaveringly at them. The mother and wife vanished, replaced by a steely-eyed criminal.

No one moved. It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real. Stuff like this only happened to other people and in movies and stuff.

"I said hand it over. Now."

Mr. Matthews started fumbling for his wallet. Topanga hid her face in Cory's shoulder. Shawn sought out John. Their eyes met from across the couch.

"Dani, do your thing," Mrs. Wilson said.

As if in slow motion, Dani stood, looking around at all of them. Rather than going towards them, however, she moved to stand between Mrs. Wilson and them.

"What do you think you're doing? We went over this. They won't be around to tell anyone anything, but we will."

"No," Dani said. "You and Gary can go screw yourselves, for all I care. I'm not doing it."

The two stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity. Mrs. Wilson took the safety off of the gun and put her finger back on the trigger. "Stand aside, freak. And don't even think about trying anything. I'll pull this trigger, and you know it."

"Then go ahead and shoot. I'm not budging."

This girl was either insane or she had some kind of death wish. Those were the only two things that made any sense to Shawn in that moment.

Mr. Matthews moved forward, wallet in hand. He put his free hand on Dani's shoulder and gently nudged her aside, keeping his eyes on Mrs. Wilson. "Here. This is all I have. Please, just leave my family alone. It's all yours."

Everyone who had any money stepped forward and handed it over.

Mrs. Wilson shoved all of it into her purse before raising her gun back up again. "Get in your seats up front, put your hands where I can see them, and don't move."

They all silently obeyed. Shawn felt a small measure of relief when John joined him. He subconsciously grabbed for his hand.

There was a sudden bout of turbulence. Both John and Shawn reached for their seat belts at the same time. A short while later, the door to the cockpit opened and Mr. Wilson came out, holding another gun with a longer barrel that didn't quite match the rest of the gun.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson quietly talked with one another, on occasion gesturing to them and to Dani. They pulled out parachutes. Mr. Wilson pulled out a cell phone. Didn't those mess with the airplane equipment or something? There was another big turbulence dip. Shawn couldn't catch much of the one-sided conversation over the white-noise from the flight. What little he could catch amounted to something about a boat that was supposed to meet them.

The turbulence was getting stronger. The air masks dropped down from above. Shawn ignored John's attempts to get him to put it on.

The couple strapped on their parachutes and grabbed hold of a third, presumably meant for Dani. They opened a door on the plane, threw the third parachute out, then jumped out themselves.

Dani stumbled over to the open door and struggled to get it closed. Mr. Matthews, being the closest to her, helped her do so. He heard him yelling at Dani to sit down and buckle up before she got hurt. She ignored him and stumbled over to the cockpit door. She slammed into the side wall and clung onto it to help her keep her balance before disappearing through the door.

He looked out the window next to him. It looked like they were losing altitude fast. The plane jerked violently to the side and further downward before seeming to level out some.

He clutched the armrests of his chair. The turbulence kept growing more and more violent as the seconds drew on. He continued to ignore the oxygen mask that hung in front of him. Looking around, it seemed Cory was the only one who even bothered. What was the point? It was almost cruel to be taunting them with something that was supposed to help but would really accomplish so little. He glanced out the window again. The ocean seemed to be getting closer still. They'd all be crashing in the ocean any time now. He shut his eyes, waiting.

There was one final violent bump, then all went still.

* * *

**A/N: **All of the information about Dominican Republic currency versus USA currency came from a currency rate calculator. I apologize if any of this is inaccurate. I've never been there, so I've just had to rely on what I found online.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the long delay with officially posting this story. I realized there were major issues with the plotline I had planned for this first story that I couldn't ignore. As a result, the full story isn't finished, as I had hoped it would be before I started posting. I didn't want to keep anyone waiting any longer, however, so here it is. The updates will take longer because of this, but I promise to get them out as quickly as I'm able.

I should give the forewarning for anyone who doesn't like these types of stories that if there were an option to give a third genre for this story, it would be supernatural. I just figured adventure and family were more crucial to the story and any supernatural elements are more secondary at this point in the six story series I have planned.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_ - Time gap in story, sometimes also shift in POV.

## - Shift in POV, without any time gap.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

A few seconds went by. Nothing happened . . . . Then a few more. Shawn glanced over at John and looked around at all of the others. They were all still alive. How . . . ?

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God," Topanga kept saying over and over.

Shawn could hear someone crying. A quick look around showed that to be Morgan. Eric had his arm protectively around her, but he looked just as much in shock.

He jumped when he heard a thump from the front of the plane. The door to the cockpit had swung open and hit against the wall next to it. Dani rushed out, not stopping until she reached the overhead compartments. She opened one and pulled out all the luggage within. She dumped out the contents of a few bags he vaguely recognized as hers and started repacking, leaving some items carelessly scattered on the ground. This strange display seemed to start pulling people out of their shock.

"What are you doing?" John finally asked from beside him.

The girl barely paused in her self-appointed task. "Consolidating. We're currently stuck in the middle of the ocean—floating for now, but who knows how long that will last. Unless you guys want to pull the whole captain thing and go down with the plane, I highly suggest you move." Topanga's mantra got louder. "There's an island not too far from here. We should be able to make it, but I doubt we'll be able to bring everything with us." Mr. Matthews, Mrs. Matthews, Eric, and John stood up and joined Dani with going through the bags.

Shawn closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them again. He dimly remembered the safety speech from before the flight—something about the seats having built in life-preservers or vests or something. He searched the seats beside and in front of him for any clues. He reached inside the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him and pulled out all the contents. He discarded the magazines, only pausing when he came across a laminated card with the letters "In Case of Emergency" written in bold on top. It said something about the seat cushions being able to be used as flotation devices. He threw that aside and stood up, rubbing his head after bumping it on the compartments above him. Damn these spaces were small, even with it being roomier than a normal passenger plane. He turned around to face his seat, careful to keep hunched over. Tugging on the seat didn't seem to be enough. It didn't matter how much strength he put behind it. He hunched over a bit more and felt around under the seat. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly, but . . . there. He felt some kind of latch. The cushion came up no problem then.

"Shawn, I don't think now's the time to start wrecking the plane," Cory said from behind him.

"I'm not," he responded, turning the cushion around to reveal some arm straps or something. "That safety card thing said they're flotation devices."

Cory didn't say anything. He just went to another seat and worked out how to remove the cushion on that one as well. Shawn moved over to John's seat. He tried not to think about the situation too much. It was easier now that he had something to keep him busy. Later on, though . . . one step at a time. That's all he could handle right now.

He heard some crinkling and thumping coming from the back of the plane. A quick glance showed him Eric and Topanga were dumping drinks from the fridge and snacks from the snack bar into bags they had emptied out.

The second cushion came up much faster than the first. He moved forward to the next row. He hadn't noticed it much before, but it seemed like the plane was tilted slightly to the side he had been on. It was a little disorienting. He caught a glimpse of Mr. Matthews pulling a white box with a red cross on it—had to be a first-aid kit or something—off of the wall up front. John was ripping through some cabinets by one of the exits, throwing some of the smaller items in a bag and setting a big, yellow plastic thing to the side. Mrs. Matthews stayed near Morgan and continued going through all of their stuff, repacking some and discarding the rest. With the two of them working on the seats, Shawn and Cory made pretty quick work of getting the cushions up.

"I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," Dani said. Shawn looked up to see Mr. Matthews stopped near the cockpit door. "I don't know if you've seen gunshot wounds—real ones, not that sugar-coated shit they show on TV—they're not pretty."

"So the pilots are—" Mr. Matthews said.

Dani just gave a solemn shake of her head, like they always did in movies when people couldn't bring themselves to say someone died. "And the radio's not working. I already tried," she said. Complete silence met that new information for a moment before everyone went back to what they were doing.

Not long after that, Shawn started passing out the cushions he had pulled up and saw Cory doing the same. They all gathered everything and went over to the exit John stood by, with that plastic yellow thing close by. Shawn held his breath as John opened the door. He let it out when water didn't immediately rush in. John put his arms through the straps on the flotation cushion and grabbed the yellow bundle before exiting the plane. Shawn heard a faint splash. He dimly realized the slight tilt in the plane must have made it so the door was above the water rather than level with it or—worse—below it. The splash was soon followed by a hissing sound—like an inflating balloon or basketball makes. That yellow thing must have been a life raft or something. Mr. Matthews started handing the bags out.

"There's room for a few people on here," John called from outside.

"Go on, Morgan, honey," Mrs. Matthews said, gently nudging her daughter towards her husband. Mr. Matthews helped her out the door, making sure she had a secure hold on the flotation device before doing so. Topanga went next, gently nudged forward by Cory. John announced there was room for one more. They all turned to Dani.

"I'll be fine swimming," she said, before focusing on Mrs. Matthews. "You should be with your kids."

Mrs. Matthews hesitated a moment before agreeing to go.

"Dani, your nose . . ." Shawn said, not sure if it had anything to do with whatever condition she had—if she even actually had one, that is.

She lifted up a hand to swipe at it and glanced at the drops of blood on her hands uncaringly. "It's nothing. I just whacked it off of something in the crash."

It made sense. Shawn still wasn't sure if he believed it, though.

Before he knew it, it was his turn to leave the plane. Dani was right. Once he was outside, he could see an island a little off in the distance.

He looked back at the plane when he heard Mrs. Matthews gasp. It seemed to fall a little, like their luck was starting to run out. Eric, Cory, and Mr. Matthews were still in there. It stabilized again, slightly. The last three remaining in the plane tumbled out in a rush. The plane shifted again and started to fill with water.

They all slowly but surely made their way through the ocean over to the sandy shores ahead of them. Shawn gave up trying to stroke with his arms after only a short distance, the flotation device making that movement more than awkward, just grabbed hold of the cushion and focused on kicking as hard and as fast as he could until he finally reached shallow water.

##

Eric advanced on Cory the minute he made it to the shore. "You just had to throw that money around, didn't you?"

"So this is my fault?" Cory asked.

"I'm thinking yeah."

"Eric," he heard his dad's warning undertone. He turned to find everyone had made it to shore by this point.

"How else did they know to target us, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know . . . how about the private plane?" Cory said.

"They had an escape plan already lined up, you moron. They knew before that."

"They're pros," Dani began. "They paid off some of the resort staff to give them tips. They would have found out with or without your help."

The wheels started turning in Eric's head. "What were you doing with them, anyways?" He turned on Dani.

"Sorry, but I don't see how that's any of your business."

Exactly what someone who had something to hide would say. "The plane didn't crash until after you went in the cockpit. What did you do?"

"Eric," the adults all chorused.

Eric ignored them. "You're still working for them, aren't you?"

Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before he could figure out what it was. "You really think—?" she started. Her tone was soft but had an unmistakable angry edge to it. "You know what . . . whatever. Think what you want. I really don't care." She walked over to get her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "As much as I would love to stick around and play Gilligan's Island with all of you, I think I'll pass." She started to walk away from the group. Good riddance.

"Yeah? And go where?" Eric heard his dad's voice from behind them.

"I don't know. Try and find some form of civilization. I'll figure it out."

"What if you run into one of those primitive tribes that eat people?" Cory asked.

"I'll take my chances." She kept on walking.

##

"Hold it," Alan called out again. The girl actually stopped, though she kept her back turned. "You seem like a practical person. The worst thing any of us can do right now is wander off alone. We need to stick together here." She seemed to hesitate for a moment before letting her bag drop to the ground. She still made no move to turn back towards them, but at least she wasn't leaving. He'd take what he could get.

That's when everything came crashing down. Alan took in the sight of his family and their friends around him, all soaked and terrified. They were stuck here with no way of outside communication. They didn't even know if there was anyone else here on the island they could turn to for help. All they had in terms of survival gear was what little they were able to find on the plane. He turned to his wife and hugged her like she was some kind of lifeline, which—right now—she kind of was for him.

"Alan?" Amy questioned.

He pulled away and just stared at her for a minute. She was looking at him with a combination of concern and fear. "We'll figure something out." The words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

The group spent much of that day in a state of shock. No one really said much. No one seemed to know what to say or even what to do. It wasn't until Alan noticed the sun starting to set that it broke him out of the daze he had been in. He had never been in a survival situation before, but he knew enough to know they couldn't just sit around there and wait.

He got up and went over to their bags. They had repacked all of them haphazardly, not having had much time to work before. Much of what they packed could very well be crucial to their survival here. He felt more than saw Amy's supportive presence by him. He glanced over at her and tried to give a small smile. She returned it. "I figured we should try and organize this a bit better," Alan said. Amy just nodded. He put his arm around her briefly before starting with the task ahead.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there going through the bags—probably longer than it warranted, but what difference did it make? It's not like they had anything better to do right now. He vaguely noticed John joined them at some point, as did Eric. Shawn had come over and frantically searched through the bags before finding a notebook or journal of some sort and a pencil and then leaving again. By the time they finished, they had one bag of food, another with drinks, another with survival/rescue gear (a first-aid kit, flashlight, and flare gun with a few flares), and the rest with their clothing and toiletries. If they rationed, the food and drinks would last a few days at best.

Alan rubbed his eyes. It was official. This was the vacation from hell.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx_

Gary Wilson kicked at the wrecked speed boat. "You better be able to fix this thing," he said to another man. "And you can forget about your cut of the money."

"No money, no fix," the other man said.

"Why you—" Ellie drew her gun at the man.

Gary put his hand on the barrel and lowered it. "Don't waste your bullets on him yet. We may need them."

Ellie put her gun down and stomped away, the sand sliding under her feet making it more of a clumsy act than dramatic.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx_

When Alan first regained consciousness the next morning, he was confused. The details of the previous day were fuzzy. It seemed like nothing more than a nightmare—way too outlandish and unreal to even consider being true. The sand he very clearly felt beneath him indicated otherwise, however. He slowly opened his eyes to find the sun shining down and a beach completely empty, save for his wife, kids, John, Shawn, Topanga, and that other girl. Not a dream then—still a nightmare, but one that wasn't bound to go away anytime soon. He couldn't think like that, though. They would make it back home. They had to. He just didn't know how.

He moved to get up, his stiff muscles protesting. The others seemed to be rousing as well. He forced himself past the lethargy and hopelessness that had settled in the previous day. If they all stayed lost in self-pity, they wouldn't survive long enough to get rescued. He went over to the food and drink bags and started doing some mental calculations of how much they could afford to use now. The fog still stubbornly residing in his mind made that more difficult than it needed to be, but he eventually managed it and passed a few of the items around to everyone to share.

"Dad?" Cory asked. "What now?"

That question had plagued him ever since he realized he was still alive after the plane went down. Everyone was looking at him, except for Dani. She seemed to have wandered off a bit, though still in sight. He looked back at Cory. "Now . . . we learn how to live here and do everything we can to get back home."

"What if we never make it back home?" Eric asked.

"We will." Alan tried to put as much confidence in that statement as he could, even though he wasn't sure he fully believed it himself.

"But what if we don't?" Shawn asked.

Alan looked down a moment. "Then we make a new life for ourselves here."

Everyone grew quiet again. For a while, the only sounds to be heard were the rustling sounds of the food bags, muffled crunching noises, and the crash of the waves. It would have been peaceful if the situation were different. Alan loved being out in the wilderness. Even before his wife bought that store and told him he owned it, he loved spending time out camping and fishing. Some of his fondest memories were of camping trips he took with his family. The best of them all, though, was that trip he and Amy took back before they had kids—the backpacking trip across Europe. He smiled in remembrance. Aside from that annoying Reginald Fairfield that insisted on following them and playing tour guide, that trip was amazing. They slept under the stars every night and just genuinely enjoyed being together.

"What about Dani?" Morgan asked, bringing Alan out of his thoughts. "Don't you think she'll need something to eat, too?"

"Who cares?" Eric chimed in.

"Eric," he said in a warning tone.

"What? I don't trust her."

"She can't be that bad," Cory said. "I mean, she did stand up for us and all."

"That was probably just an act."

"What evil plan could she possibly carry out when we're all stuck on a deserted island?"

"I don't know, but there is one."

"Eric, Cory, that's enough," Amy said.

"Can I take something over to her?" Morgan asked.

"I don't see why not."

Alan just nodded when Morgan looked over to him. He watched her walk over to the girl. Dani seemed to accept the offering and Morgan sat down next to her. He didn't know what to make of the girl. He didn't think Eric's conspiracy theory about her could be true. As Cory pointed out, she did stick up for them and even helped spur them into action after the disaster. No, he didn't agree with Eric, but he could on some level understand. This situation was bad and Eric was looking for someone to blame—to take his anger and frustration out on. The Wilsons may have been the real ones behind all of this, but they weren't here. Of those here, Dani was the outsider and easy scapegoat. It didn't help that she did have some connection with those criminals. Even if Eric's suspicions did hold some truth to them, though, she was just a kid—probably no older than Cory. He looked away when he realized he was staring.

Later that day, Alan started trying to figure out how best to go about getting food and water. Kind of ironic that water was such an issue, considering they were so close to the ocean, but they needed fresh water. As far as he knew, there wasn't any way to make the salt water drinkable. He vaguely remembered the old tip to go downhill to find water. Considering they were on an island and possibly on the lowest point, however, he wasn't sure how much help that would be. He and John still went out and looked while Amy stayed with the kids. Even if they did find a good source of water, there was the question of how to go about purifying it. The easy answer was to boil it. The fire would be easy enough to start. Though he usually had matches with him when he went out camping, his dad had taught him how to start a fire without them. It had been a while, but he thought he should still be able to do it. The problem would be what to boil it in. They didn't have any pots or pans. They did have the bottles their drinks came in from the plane, but the plastic would melt.

John was unusually quiet the whole time. Then again, they all seemed to be more subdued than normal. Alan found himself at a loss for words most of the time too. He just had to hope they would all eventually bounce back from this.

They returned without finding anything.

Another day went by with no more success than the first. Their supply was dwindling, even with using it as sparingly as possible. Food wasn't as big of a problem, since people can survive a few weeks without it—not comfortably, but they could still survive. They could only survive without water for a few days. Not for the first time, Alan wondered how they were going to manage.

Everyone had started looking to him as a leader of sorts. It was like owning a wilderness store was supposed to make him an expert in this sort of thing. That's just it, though. Even if he did know which products were best to recommend to certain customers based on their needs, they didn't exactly have any of those products here. What they needed was some expert boy scout or something . . . not him. At least his kids he could understand looking at him to help them through this, but Amy and John too . . . ?

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx_

"Will these work?"

Shawn looked up from the stack of palm tree leaves he had cut down with his pocket knife to find Eric had brought out a pile of twigs. They were trying to tackle building a shelter of some sort. He barely stopped himself from laughing at the look on Mr. Matthews' face.

"We can use them for a signal fire. We need something sturdier to support the shelter," Mr. Matthews said.

The ghost of a smile left Shawn's face. Even he could tell the strain the man was under—they all were under. His gaze moved over to find John. He was resting on the sand, his head in his hands. He and Mr. Matthews had just come back from another failed water and food finding mission a little bit ago.

Shawn went over to find another palm tree he could take a couple branches from. He had a pretty good stack already, but they could probably use more—they would need some for signal fires in addition to their shelter. He didn't hold much hope they would get rescued, though. He had seen all three seasons of Gilligan's Island in reruns. They may have been rescued in the movie that came out later, but that was only after they had already left the island themselves on a floating hut-raft thing. If TV were the true mirror of reality, like he often believed, they would have to get themselves off this island . . . and right now that wasn't looking likely.

He was just about ready to figure out how to get to the branches of another palm tree when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to find John.

"Unless you've learned to fly without me knowing, I think you're gonna need a little help."

Shawn looked back at the tree in question. The trunk on this tree was too smooth for him to get a good grip and foothold on to try climbing. Shawn looked back at John and nodded. John helped hoist him up chicken fight style, with Shawn sitting on John's shoulders and John holding onto his legs for support. The tree was low enough he was able to just barely reach the branches with that extra boost. He sawed away at a few of them as best he could, making sure to grab them before they fell to keep them from falling on him and John. He tossed each one to the ground before starting on the next. It was a slow, tedious process, but persistence paid off.

After only taking a few branches, Shawn asked John to let him down.

"How are you doing?" John asked suddenly.

Shawn picked up the branches and started walking. "Great. Why do you ask?"

"Shawn," John said in that warning tone of his.

He dropped them on the pile he had already gathered before facing John again. He wasn't surprised the man had followed him over here. He ran his hand through his hair. "Come on, John. We're stuck on a deserted island. How do you think I'm doing?"

John nodded. "Fair enough."

"I just try not to think about it, you know? Just keep busy so I don't have to. When that doesn't work, I write about it." John's the only one Shawn told about his love of poetry. It was actually while he was at The Center that it all started. He was going through a rough time and one of the other kids gave him the advice to write about it. He thought it was stupid at first, but it seemed to help him cope, so he kept doing it.

"Yeah, I saw you still had your book. I'm glad."

"I'm surprised actually. I didn't look through any of the stuff on the plane. Someone else must have packed it on accident or for some reason thought it was important." Shawn shrugged. "Who would have thought the straight D and C student from the trailer park would take up writing poetry . . . ."

"Hey. Whatever works," John said.

Shawn looked John over. "How are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me, kiddo." John gave a little half smile and ruffled Shawn's hair. Shawn just did his best imitation of John's I'm-not-buying-it-and-we're-talking-about-this-now face. "I'm coping in my own ways. It will just take some getting used to."

"Yeah, it will." Shawn went back to gathering the palm tree branches with John's help.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx_

Alan stared blankly out over the waves, watching the sunset. In the morning, they would attempt another signal fire. Hopefully that would turn out better than all of their other goals lately. The shelter was coming along . . . kind of. They had plenty of foliage to use to insulate the walls and ceiling. Once Eric borrowed Shawn's pocket knife, he managed to get some larger branches to help support the structure. They were still working on finding something to hold it all together. Otherwise it would be no better than building a house out of cards . . . more or less pointless. Water and food were still a problem.

He looked over when he noticed Amy sit down next to him. He put his arm out around her. They sat there in silence for a while, just watching the sky turn various shades of orange, red, and eventually purple and pink as the sun continued its descent. If there was any silver lining to this fiasco, it was the beauty of this place.

It's funny how things turn out. Just a few weeks ago, they were living comfortably. Not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but able to pay the bills and on occasion splurge a little bit. Then the lottery sent them on a roller coaster ride. They reached the peak of the tallest hill when they collected the money, then rapidly descended to the lowest with that plane crash. They had nothing but what little they were able to take with them off the plane.

They were lucky. If the plane hadn't leveled out as it had, they would have taken a nosedive in the ocean. The water pressure very well could have shattered the windows. The likelihood they would have all made it out of there alive—let alone with any supplies at all—was slim. Even with the plane leveling out before they hit, it was still amazing they stayed above water for as long as they did. It made sense that it might float towards the top for a short while, but between the weight and the impact . . . .

There was no use trying to find the logic behind it. He was just glad it worked out the way it had. He just had to hope they wouldn't have been spared from the crash only to die from dehydration.

"Alan?" Amy questioned, softly.

Alan looked over at her. She had that look on her face that was a blend of concern for him and fear of their situation. He wished he never would have had to get to know that look so well. It seemed to be almost permanently plastered on her face. She didn't say anything more, but she didn't need to.

"I have no clue what I'm doing here, Amy."

"You seem to be doing pretty good from where I'm standing," she said.

Alan gave her a small smile at that. "I run a wilderness store, but I don't even know how to really rough it in the wild. What does that make me?"

"Human," she answered, simply. "We're all in unfamiliar territory here. All we can do is guess at what to do and hope for the best."

"I know, but it seems like everyone's counting on me to fix everything, and I can't do it." He ran his hand over his face and sighed.

"The reason everyone is looking up to you is because you stepped up and took charge. No one is expecting miracles from you except yourself. Everything will come together. It will take time, but we will figure it out. All of us . . . together."

"How do you know?"

"I have faith."

Alan smiled and hugged her closer.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx_

Things were still rough for a little while, but then it was like someone just flipped a switch and everything started coming together.

They realized they could strip some of the palm tree branches of the leaves and weave the leaves together to form a sturdier rope to hold all of their support branches together for the shelter. It wasn't anything spectacular, by any means, but they did manage to get the shelter up, should they need it.

Alan and John had persistently gone out searching for water and food every day. Right when they were about to give up on day four, Alan heard what sounded like splashing water. He continued towards the sound, with John following along, and found a river. In that moment, Alan was caught between a desire to shout for joy and to cry in relief—all macho pride aside. From the watery look to John's eyes, he was right there with him. Alan clapped him on the shoulder before pulling the emptied bottles they brought with them out of his bag and filling them.

They found a few sticks with sharp edges lying around the area, figuring they were bound to find fish somewhere now that they found water. John was hopeless at their makeshift version of spear fishing. Alan wasn't much better. It didn't matter, though. Alan felt like this huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders the moment they found this river. He didn't think anything could bring him down. For the first time since the crash, he was actually able to find some humor in failing miserably. In the end, they did manage to catch a few fish.

Everyone cheered when they returned. Alan went straight over to his wife and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, blatantly ignoring his kids' disgusted cries behind him.

"Oh, get a hut," Eric said.

"Not a bad idea," Amy said, smiling at Alan.

"Okay . . . ew."

Alan gave his wife one last kiss before going to see about starting a fire.

Shawn had apparently managed to chisel away enough of a rock about the size of a basketball to make it into something that sort of resembled a bowl. It wouldn't hold much, but they were able to use it to boil some of the water they found.

A few people who weren't completely grossed out working with dead fish that still actually looked like fish prepped them for dinner—which basically consisted of Amy, Shawn, John, and Dani.

That girl still avoided them most of the time, but she did help out where she could. No one could get her to say more than a few clipped words other than Morgan. Eric still shot her suspicious glances, but his conspiracy theory comments were fewer and farther between—and usually nonexistent when the girl was within hearing range.

Alan looked up from the kindling and firewood he was placing. Mostly everyone had lost that desperate panicked look they had all shared since first arriving here. People had started joking with one another again. They were starting to go back to normal—or at least whatever would pass for normal for them now. Their situation was still far from ideal, but they were learning. They had already hit rock bottom. There was nowhere for them to go now but up.

* * *

**A/N: **I've already started working on chapter 3, so hopefully I'll be able to post it in a couple weeks at most.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Cory looked around at the familiar setting—his red brick house, the outdoor loveseat, the picket fence separating his property from Mr. Feeny's . . . . It was all there—just like he remembered it. He wanted so badly to believe he was really there, but somehow he knew this was just a dream even while it was happening.

Feeny's door opened to reveal Feeny coming out with gardening supplies. The grey haired man looked up at him as he shut the door behind him. "Beautiful day out today, isn't it, Mr. Matthews?"

The sun was shining down and the air was just cool enough to help break up the heat. It wasn't the scorching heat he was growing used to on the island. It really was nice, but . . . . "It would be if this were real," Cory said.

"Oh, come now. This is your dream. Enjoy it."

"How can I when I know I'll just wake up back in that hell?"

Feeny just went over to his garden and pruned his azaleas. "These flowers are thriving this year. They've grown so full and beautiful."

Cory walked over to the fence and looked over at the plants in question. The petals were a pale orange color and open in a star-like shape. "Yeah, they are, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"What do you think would happen if I dug them up and replanted them elsewhere?"

"I don't know . . . die?"

Mr. Feeny looked up and gave him a sad smile at that. "I imagine they may struggle at first, but then they would adapt to their new environment and thrive again."

"Like me and my family?"

"Precisely."

Cory just watched Feeny tend to his garden. Even though he and his family were adapting, he wasn't sure he would ever be okay with it. It wasn't home. He didn't want it to be home. He wanted to get off the island, back to the life he knew. He wished none of that ever happened . . . the fact of the matter was, though, that it did happen. He couldn't change the past, as much as he wanted to.

The scene around him slowly faded away until he was left with nothing but the sound of the waves and feel of the sand and scorching heat. He opened his eyes to find himself on the beach again. It was officially a week today since they got stuck here. Funny . . . last week he wished he could live on the beach forever. Now that it seemed like a reality, he didn't want it. Sometimes he hated life's ironies.

"Morning, Cory," Topanga said as she joined him.

Cory smiled. "Morning, Topanga. Kiss?"

"Kiss." She smiled back and leaned in for a quick peck.

"I feel like I'm getting a cavity just watching you two," Eric said.

Cory hadn't even seen him come up. Then again, he was a little distracted. He turned to his brother then. "Oh, you're just jealous I have a girlfriend here and you don't."

"It could be that . . . or it could be your cuteness is just—" Eric broke off and made hurling noises.

Cory wasn't sure if he was happy or annoyed his brother was back to normal.

Cory was at a crossroads. He could either continue to dwell on how much the situation sucked—which was a lot—or he could try to move on and make the most of it. Maybe that's what brought on that dream he had—his growing desire to stop being so miserable bothered him because he felt like if he let himself move on, he would be giving up on ever leaving here. But maybe it was possible to make the most of it and still hope they could get home. He looked back at Topanga. At least he wasn't alone. He had his whole family, his girlfriend, his best friend, and even one of his teachers here.

His gaze strayed over to Dani. She kind of reminded him of Kim Bailey. It wasn't just the necklace; it was her attitude—the way she carried herself, the way she shut everyone out . . . .

That thought in mind, Cory stood up and purposefully walked over to the girl. No one should be alone in the world.

"This seat taken?" Cory asked her, jokingly.

Dani just looked up at him, shrugged, then went back to ignoring him.

Cory sat down, not really sure where to go from there. "We don't bite, you know. You can come over and join us. I promise I'll even personally make sure we keep Eric on a leash—maybe even give him a treat if he plays nice."

The girl's mouth twitched, as if she were about to smile but stopped herself. "I think I'll pass."

"Come on. It'll be great. I mean, it would be better than just sitting by yourself all the time, right?"

"If my options are stay by myself or hang around someone who uses lame metaphors . . . ." She stood up and walked further away from the group.

Cory watched her go for a little while, not sure whether to follow and push the issue or not. He barely even noticed Topanga when she joined him.

"Maybe it would be best to just leave her be," Topanga said after a moment. "She doesn't exactly strike me as the friendliest person in the world. If she wants to avoid everyone, let her."

"Now you sound like Eric," Cory said.

"I don't think she's all bad, just—I don't even know how to describe it, there's just something about her . . . ."

To Cory, that didn't matter. He wanted to believe the best in people. There were a few glaring exceptions, of course—Harley Keiner and the Wilsons popping to mind—but still . . . .

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx_

"Come on, dad," Cory whined. "We've been stuck here like a week already. I know we're supposed to stick together, but can't Shawn, Topanga, and I go exploring?"

His dad didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, after what seemed like forever to Cory's impatient and restless mind, his dad nodded. "Be back before sundown."

"I'm coming, too," Eric said, getting up.

"Whatever," Cory said. "Dani, you wanna come too? Get a change of scenery for a while?"

"Great idea, Cor. Give her a chance to off us and make it look like an accident."

"Will you lay off it, Eric? That's getting old."

"Relax," Dani said. "I'm not going."

"Why not? It'll be fun."

"She said she doesn't want to come. Who cares?" Eric said.

"Shut up, Eric."

"Spending the day with Larry, Moe, Curly, and Barbie isn't my idea of fun," Dani said.

"Ooh. I love the three stooges. Which one am I?"

Dani rolled her eyes.

"Really, Cory?" Topanga pat his hair to make a point then grabbed his arm. "Come on, Curly. Let's go."

Cory let her drag him away, idly thinking dating Barbie was actually kind of hot.

"Can I come?" Morgan said.

"No, weasel," Cory said.

"Mom!"

"Take your sister," his mom ordered.

Cory gave a sigh. "Fine."

The first chance of freedom since arriving here and he had to bring his sister along. Lovely. Part of why he wanted to get away was because he was tired of spending all his time with everyone. He loved them and all, but there's still such thing as spending too much time together.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx_

Cory sat with his back against a tree. They had walked far enough from the beach that most of the palm trees were replaced with trees more along the lines of what he was used to seeing back home. He could almost imagine he was just camping at one of the sites his dad liked to frequent. He didn't enjoy camping as much as the rest of his family did, but it was still a comforting thought.

Topanga was playing some kind of game with Morgan—Patty Cake or some girly clapping game like that. Eric was off who knows where looking for something he could use to weight lift, since he didn't have his hand weights with him—though what he expected to find out here, aside from rocks, is anybody's guess. Cory and Shawn had just been sitting in companionable silence.

"Why does Morgan always have to butt into everything," Cory said. "Why couldn't she just leave us alone and stay back with mom and dad?" He looked over at Shawn, expecting some kind of sympathy or something.

"Just let it rest, Cor," Shawn said. "It's fine. I don't mind. It doesn't look like Topanga does either."

"Well I do mind, thank you very much."

"Yeah. I got that."

Then Cory heard two girlish shrieks. He and Shawn glanced at one another before scrambling up and over to the girls. There was some kind of lizard just chilling on a stone by where Topanga and Morgan had been playing. It had brown scaly skin, black eyes, and some kind of loose skin that seemed to ruffle out from its head. Cory laughed before picking up the little guy. "You can't tell me you're that scared of this fella. He's harmless." He held the creature out to the girls.

"Get that thing away from me," Topanga said, backing away.

"Sheesh. You'd think it was a tarantula or something."

"You don't think there are any of those out here, do you?" Morgan asked.

"How should I know?"

Eric rushed back through the trees. "What's wrong? I heard screaming."

Cory turned towards his brother, holding out the lizard. "They're scared of this guy."

Eric laughed. "Wow."

The lizard puffed out the ruffled skin around its head, so it looked like a lion's mane or like that dinosaur that spit black goo in _Jurassic Park_. "Nice lizard." Cory quickly put it down on the ground.

They all sprinted away as if their lives depended on it, not stopping until they put a good distance between them and that reptile.

Cory looked at the others when he heard a gentle roaring sound. Without a word, he walked forward through the trees to investigate. He heard Topanga let out a quiet gasp when they made it into the little clearing.

The water in the pond before them was a clear aqua blue color, marred only by the white foam from the waterfall. Leafy green trees surrounded the clearing. Some fern-like branches hung down near the falls. The rock face behind it was a pale grey spotted with green moss that held its own sort of natural beauty.

Cory closed his mouth when he realized it was hanging open. This place was . . . incredible.

A shirtless Shawn ran past him and did a canon ball into the water. Eric wasn't far behind him. Cory turned to Topanga, pulling his own shirt off now as well. She was steadfastly leaving hers on. "Wanna join us?"

"Yes. But the shirt stays on," she said.

"Come on. It's not like anyone's gonna see anything. Of course, I wouldn't mind if I did . . . ." He grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams." She playfully shoved him backwards into the water before jumping in herself.

They spent most of the afternoon swimming around in the water. They played a few rounds of Marco Polo, Sharks and Minnows, and Chicken Fight—though they had to switch out players for the last game, since they had an odd number. For a while, Cory even forgot about their situation. He was just having fun with his best friend, girlfriend, and siblings.

It was late afternoon by the time Cory left the water, Shawn and Topanga with him. The trio just sat on the shore and watched Eric and Morgan splash each other in some makeshift version of water wars.

They passed the hours talking about everything and nothing. Time lost meaning—a fact Cory realized when he noticed the sun was starting to set. "Uh oh," he said. The group all looked at one another for a moment before getting up and running back the way they came. If they were late the first time they went off on their own, they would never be allowed to go out again—at least not for a while, anyways. They couldn't be late.

They rushed through all the trees. Jumping over roots and rocks in their hurry. Cory's heart was racing and his breathing erratic. His legs burned from the strain. It didn't matter. He kept pushing himself, as he was sure the others were doing as well.

After what seemed like a ridiculously long period of time in his opinion, he could see the beach beyond the trees. Almost there . . . almost . . . .

Cory bent over, his hands resting on his bent legs, gasping for breath. The sun was pretty low in the sky, but it hadn't fully set yet. They made it. His dad just looked over at them and shook his head, seemingly finding some perverse amusement out of their arrival. Cory bit back a retort when his dad seemed to look worried as he scanned over their group.

"Where's Morgan?"

"What do you mean, 'where's Morgan'? She's right—" Cory cut himself off as he glanced around and noticed what his dad already had. He glanced over at Shawn, Topanga, and Eric. They looked back at him and each other with wide-eyed, pale-faced stares. None of them even had the slightest idea she was missing. The worst part was, Cory wasn't even sure when it happened. It could have happened easily while they raced back here so they didn't break curfew the first day they were allowed to explore, but he didn't even fully remember seeing her before they left the waterfall. Did she hear him complain about her tagging along earlier? What if she ran off because of that? This was his fault. He didn't mean for her to leave. He didn't want her to get lost. Well . . . okay, he had wanted that, but not like this.

"Stay here," his dad ordered the kids before making plans with his mom, Mr. Turner, and Eric to split up in pairs to go find Morgan.

Cory felt numb as he watched the four of them leave. They had to find her. They had to. He couldn't even consider any other possibility.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. He turned to find Dani leaving now as well. "What are you doing?" he asked her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she retorted.

"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear what my dad just said? Did you not just hear him say to stay here?"

"Yeah. Your dad. Not mine. And does it look like I care?"

Cory looked over at Shawn and Topanga. They stared back. Shawn shrugged and Topanga just gave him an understanding look. They'd wait here. He jogged to catch up with Dani. "Hey, wait up. I'm coming, too."

"Whatever." She didn't slow down the slightest bit.

The trees were nothing more than a blur to him as he matched Dani's quick pace. She led the way, always a pace or two ahead of him. In his desperation, it took him longer than it should have to realize something just seemed off about this.

"The idea is to look for Morgan, not speed walk a marathon, so shouldn't we slow down and—you know—actually look?" Cory asked.

"The idea is to find her quickly, but if you want to take your sweet ass time, go right on ahead," Dani said.

"Well aren't you little Miss Sunshine?"

"I never asked you to come with me."

Cory skidded to a halt to avoid running into Dani when she stopped suddenly. He moved up beside her when she didn't start moving again. She had her eyes closed. "What are you—?"

"Sshh." After another moment, she opened her eyes and veered off to their right.

Cory raised his eyebrows. "Okay, then." He hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow her again. He wanted to find his sister, but if Dani was going nuts on them, he probably shouldn't leave her alone either.

They continued at a swift pace for a short while longer before Dani finally slowed down some. "Morgan," she called.

"Morgan," Cory joined in.

They walked further, calling out every so often. Cory stopped when he thought he heard something. It was faint, but it was definitely there and definitely Morgan. He and Dani both broke out into a run towards the sound.

He halted at the top of a fairly steep hill. Morgan was sprawled out down at the bottom. "Morgan, are you okay?" he yelled down.

"My ankle hurts," she said.

"Just—just hold on. We're coming." . . . As soon as he could figure out a way to get to her without ending up in just as bad or even worse shape. Dani didn't seem to have any such concerns and recklessly ran down the hill, sliding any time she lost her footing then running again when she regained control. That girl really needed to learn the art of self preservation. Okay. He could do this. He just needed to take it slow and steady. One foot in front of the other. He tested each step before picking up his other foot, to make sure his footing was solid and kept his hands and arms out and ready in case he needed to touch the ground for extra support.

He let out a relieved breath when he finally reached the bottom. Dani was already crouched down next to Morgan. He joined them. Morgan's ankle even looked sore. It was swollen and red looking. At least it wasn't black and blue. That had to be a good sign, right? At Dani's request, she had also managed to move it a little.

"We really should head back," Cory said. Dani and Morgan both nodded. He turned around so his back was facing Morgan and crouched down again. "Grab on, okay? And hold on tight." He waited for her to do as he instructed and made sure her hold on him was secure before he carefully stood up, instantly grabbing hold of her legs once he was. He turned back to the hill they just came down . . . and looked up. "I don't think we can go back that way."

Without a word, Dani walked past him, adjacent to the hill back the general direction they had come. Cory hesitated only a fraction of a second before doing the same. They walked in silence at a slow, steady pace, so as not to jar Morgan's ankle too much.

How did Dani know where Morgan was? Yeah, there was still some searching involved once they got closer, but she seemed to know the general area. How could she possibly have known? Unless she followed without them knowing, she didn't come with them before. Even if she had, they hadn't come over this way—well . . . except for Morgan, obviously, but . . . .

His shoulder felt damp. Moments after that realization, he could hear soft sniffles. "It's okay, Morgan. You're okay."

"I'm not crying," was the muffled reply.

Cory smiled a little, despite the situation. "Of course not," he said. "I just figured it must have been scary to be lost out here and alone. I know I would have been scared."

"You would have?"

"Yeah, I would, so I won't think less of anyone else if they felt the same." He heard a few more sniffles. "You know, I was really scared when I found out you were missing?"

"I thought you didn't want me around."

Cory winced. "That's a sibling thing. When I say I want you to get lost, I don't mean I want you to actually get lost. I just—I like to be able to hang out with my girlfriend and best friend without my little sister tagging along. It's not that I don't care about you—because I do—it's just . . . I guess I just miss the way things were back home, you know? I miss being able to just hang without _everyone_ there _all the time_."

"I miss it too. And I guess I would get annoyed if you were always around when I was with my friends back home."

The sniffling seemed to have stopped. "So, are you okay?" Cory asked.

"Yeah. I think I am now."

"Good."

The rest of the trip back, they were silent. Now that the initial adrenaline rush brought on by worry and fear had worn off, Cory was tired. He suspected Morgan was as well. The sun had fully set by the time they made it back to the beach. Finding their way back to their campsite—if it could even be called that, really—was much easier out here without all of the trees obscuring their view.

Shawn and Topanga both looked over and smiled at them as they approached. The others weren't back yet. Cory gently lowered Morgan down to the ground and made sure she was settled before sitting down as well.

Topanga hugged Morgan. "I'm glad you're okay."

Dani came over a short while later with the first-aid kit they brought from the plane. She sat down in front of Morgan, pulled some kind of ACE bandage out of the kit, and gently helped Morgan elevate her leg. Cory shifted around so Morgan could lean against him. He watched while Dani wrapped Morgan's ankle with the bandage, slowly and purposefully.

"Why don't you avoid me like you do everyone else?" Morgan asked suddenly.

Dani looked up at her briefly before going back to her work. "You remind me of someone I knew."

"Knew?" Cory questioned. "Did she . . . ?"

"No. Nothing like that. We just went our separate ways and lost touch."

"Were you close?" Morgan asked.

"I guess. I mean—we didn't really know each other that long, but under the circumstances we met, we got closer in that time than we normally would have."

"What happened?"

Dani finished wrapping Morgan's ankle and secured the loose end of the bandage. "It's complicated. Stay off this foot for a while. I don't think it's broken—just twisted or mildly sprained at most—but it still needs time to heal." She took the first-aid kit back to the bag they kept it in.

It was as Cory's gaze followed her that he noticed Mr. Turner and Eric were back. He wasn't sure how long they had been there, but from the way they hung back and looked over at Dani—Eric in particular—he figured they at least caught the tail end of their conversation. The girl in question was either oblivious to the stares or just really good at ignoring them.

"Morgan. Oh, thank God." Cory shifted out of the way before the blur that was his mother engulfed Morgan in a hug. His dad was right behind her.

"Where were you? What happened?" his dad asked.

"I got lost and fell down a hill. I tried to get up, but my ankle hurt. Cory and Dani found me."

Cory met his dad's gaze head on, hoping he'd be too happy about Morgan being back to get mad at him for leaving the campsite after specifically being told not to. His dad didn't say anything, just gave a small grateful smile before he looked back at Morgan.

"Here, let me see your ankle," his mom said. She seemed to pause for a moment when she looked at it to find it already bandaged.

"Dani said it's just twisted and I should stay off it for a while," Morgan said.

They looked over at Dani, who was still stubbornly ignoring everyone. Eric finally seemed to come out of his daze and approached the girl. "I'm sorry I accused you of working for them," he said, "and of having some evil plan against us."

Dani looked at him then, her expression unreadable. "You don't need to apologize. You were just being cautious."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it right. You stood up to them and even risked getting shot because of it . . . and I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you and I'm sorry."

Dani stared back at him for a moment. "You're welcome and don't worry about it."

"You know, you don't have to keep avoiding us," Mr. Turner spoke up from behind Eric. "This situation is tough on all of us, but at least we all know each other." He gestured around at all of Cory's family and Shawn and Topanga. "I can't even imagine what it must be like for you."

"I think we've got room for one more in our little make-shift family here," Cory's dad said. "So, what do you say? Will you at least think about it?"

Dani just gave a stiff nod before wandering off a bit.

Cory stayed with Morgan while his mom, dad, and Topanga got their dinner together, still feeling a little guilty about not realizing she was missing sooner. He would probably be the world's best older brother for a while.

Once the fish was ready along with some berries his dad made sure were safe to eat, Cory took a plateful—more like a flat rock full, really—over to Dani. She glanced up at him as he approached. She muttered a quiet thanks and took the offered plate. Cory started to walk away. He was only partway back before he noticed she was walking back with him. He gave her a small smile. She smiled in return. It seemed a little forced, but it was a start.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"What's the first thing you want to do when we get home?" Cory asked as everyone was still sitting around finishing up their dinner.

"Don't you mean if?" Shawn asked.

"No. We are going home—maybe not anytime soon—but it will happen, so yes . . . _when_ we get home." Cory ignored the skeptical looks he saw around him. Everyone seemed to have their doubts about that now. About the only others who didn't outright say they doubted it would happen were his parents, Mr. Turner, and Morgan, but he suspected his parents and Mr. Turner only kept up that pretense for the kids' sakes. As it was, Cory would be lying to himself if he didn't have his doubts either, but he had to hold onto that hope. "Who wants to go first?"

"Come on, Cor. Do we really have to do this?"

"Alright. I'll go." Cory looked down. "I think I'd want to go to Chubbie's. Topanga?"

Topanga met his gaze for a moment before looking away again. "Go visit my parents in Pittsburgh. Let them know I'm okay."

Cory put his arm around her. "Shawn?"

Shawn hunched up his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe pull out my little black book and go out with the first girl who says yes. How 'bout you, John?"

"Go for a ride on my Harley," Mr. Turner said.

"You still owe me a few lessons."

Mr. Turner winced. "I was hoping you forgot about that."

"Not a chance." Shawn smiled. Everyone around chuckled at that.

"For me . . . definitely the Feeny call," Eric said.

"The Feeny call?" Mr. Turner asked.

"Eric refuses to knock on George's door, so he just stands at the fence or the door and yells for him to come out," his dad explained.

"Oh, come on, dad. There's more to it than that."

"Yeah. You forgot to mention how obnoxious it is," Morgan said.

"Shut up, weasel."

"Make me."

"What would you want to do, anyways?"

Morgan shrugged. "Hang out with my friends, I guess. What about you, mom?"

"Take a long shower," she said before turning to his dad. "Honey?"

His dad looked at his mom. "Take the most beautiful woman I know out to the most romantic restaurant we can find."

Cory looked over at Dani. "How about you? First thing you want to do when we get back."

Dani looked up at him and around at everyone. "I don't know."

"There has to be something. I mean, don't you want to see your family again? Unless of course the Wilsons actually are your parents, then I'm sure that would be the last thing you'd want . . . ." Cory awkwardly trailed off. That was stupid. Way to throw that big elephant in the room right in her face. He kept his mouth shut, though, afraid he would just make it worse.

Some emotion seemed to flicker across her face for a moment before she adopted that neutral look she usually had going. "I don't exactly have a family," she said, avoiding eye contact.

Cory really felt like a jerk now. "I'm sorry," he said, fully meaning it. All he received in response was a small nod.

"So how did you end up with the Wilsons?" his dad asked.

Dani didn't move or even acknowledge she heard him for a few moments. She shifted how she was sitting and ran a hand through her hair before looking back up at them. "Uh . . . yeah, they were the system's latest attempt at foster parents."

"What?" his dad almost shouted.

Cory had to agree with his dad. That didn't make any sense and it was just . . . wrong.

"They've never been linked to any of the jobs they've pulled. Then add in the Good Samaritan acts they had the guy they pay to create all their public records for their various identities put in their 'Wilson' files . . . ." Dani shrugged. "My social worker didn't even question it when my placement with them came up, especially since she had been having a hard time finding anyone willing to take me in."

"That still doesn't explain why they'd even want a foster kid to begin with," Topanga said.

Dani shrugged again, her expression as blank as ever. "To help them pull their scams. They didn't trust anyone but themselves, so they wanted someone they thought they could control."

"Yeah, but why you?" Eric asked. "I mean you're what—sixteen . . . fifteen . . . ?"

"Sixteen," she said. "As for why me?" She stared off as if the palm trees held the answer. "Hell if I know. I guess they figured a kid would be easier to control—less likely to run to the cops. A foster kid is even better—everyone would be more likely to believe the saintly foster parents who took in a troubled foster kid than some dumb kid who's been bounced around from home to home." Her voice took on a bitter tone towards the end.

"How long were you with them?" his dad asked. His voice had taken on a calm, gentle tone like someone would take when dealing with a frightened animal. The last time Cory had seen his dad look the way he did now was when he talked to Shawn during the whole "Center" fiasco.

Dani seemed to focus back in on them again and stared directly at his dad. "Just a couple months," she answered. She sounded so casual, like they were talking about the weather or something. She didn't look away this time. "Look," she started, voice firm, "I'm sure this seems horrible to you—and it did suck . . . big time—but it's in the past. I'm over it. Getting upset over it doesn't accomplish anything, so just forget it." Her voice wasn't raised in anger or frustration. She sounded and almost appeared calm, cool, and collected, but how could she be?

He wanted to say something. From looking around, he could tell his parents, Mr. Turner, and Eric all seemed to want to as well, but—like Cory—they all held back from doing so. Dani had only just begun to open up to them. If they pushed too much, it might push her away again.

The silence seemed to stretch on for a while, becoming increasingly more and more awkward until Dani broke the silence with a quiet sigh. "So what's it like where you're from?" she asked.

Cory blinked. "In Philly?" he asked.

Dani nodded. Cory could almost see her struggle to keep from rolling her eyes. He guessed that was kind of a stupid question. The major change in topic had just thrown him off a bit, he guessed.

"Well . . . uh . . . Shawn, Topanga, and I all go to John Adams High where we have a principal who has somehow taught us every single year we've been in school," he began.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx_

John stood just watching Shawn for a bit. The kid was sitting against a palm tree, poetry book in one hand and tapping pencil in the other. He stared at the book so intensely, it was as if he was trying to see through it. It had been a couple months since Shawn had taken up writing poetry, but it was still a strange sight for John. If only he could get the kid that interested in his homework without dangling motorcycle lessons in front of him . . . .

John frowned. It was still way too easy to assume things would go back to normal even though he doubted they would. He waited for the pang in his chest to come that usually accompanied these thoughts. It didn't come this time.

His attention drew back to Shawn when the kid was all out drumming his pencil on the book and glaring at the sand in front of him. He approached him and sat down next to him.

"How's the poetry coming?" John asked. A second later, his gaze met Shawn's glare before the kid came out of his thinking induced daze.

Shawn dropped his pencil down more forcibly than was ever necessary and ran his hand through his hair. "I just can't get this right," he said. "It more or less wrote itself at first, but now I don't know how to finish it."

"Maybe I can help." John realized the problem with saying that as Shawn looked back down at his book. The kid needed to do this for himself. John had no intention of taking that away from him. "I mean, sometimes it helps to bounce ideas off of someone."

Shawn looked back up at him. "Maybe. I guess it couldn't hurt, anyways."

"Here." John held out his hand. "Let me see what you've got so far."

The kid hesitated and glanced back down at the book before handing it over with visible reluctance. "Please don't read too much into this," he said. "I started that right after the crash."

John nodded, took the offered book, and read the as of yet untitled poem.

_I have seen death—  
Stared it right in the face  
Watched it come ever closer, dreading its embrace  
Until it turned back away without thought or word,  
Leaving me to wonder  
Had it been my time until some other force intervened  
Or was it just toying with me _

John stared at the page for a moment. "Shawn . . ." he started, not really sure what to say.

"I told you not to read too much into it," Shawn said.

He closed the book and focused his attention solely on Shawn. "I know this is your way of coping with things, but maybe that's also the problem. Maybe the reason you're stuck is because you're not sure how to deal with it. Talk to me, Shawn."

Shawn looked down. "When the plane was going down and I saw the water getting closer from the window, I thought that was it—we were done for. Then we somehow all make it out of there only to end up here. We both know we're not making it off this island, John. How long can we keep playing _Gilligan's Island_ before . . . ?"

"Before what?" John asked, gently, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Before we just can't anymore. Before something on this island gets to us. Before we—" Shawn closed his eyes and seemed to take a couple deep breaths. When he continued, he spoke so soft, John had to strain his ears to hear him. "Before we die."

John put a hand on the kid's shoulder. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been wondering the same thing—especially in those first few days—but he didn't want Shawn to have to go through that too. He knew empty promises and reassurances would mean nothing. Shawn was old enough to understand the situation and smart enough to not take it lightly. "I don't know, but we're here now. All we can do is take it a day—no, a minute—at a time and go from there."

Shawn nodded.

"In the meantime," John continued, "maybe it would help to forget about that poem for a while. Let it sit and come back to it some other day. Sometimes obsessing too much over a creative work can cause writers' block."

Shawn looked back over at him. "I know. It's just I really feel like I need to finish this poem. The sooner the better, you know?"

"Yeah, I think I do." John figured it had to be symbolic for him. Finishing the poem meant he was moving on with his life. Whatever that meant for him, only time would tell.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x_

Shawn walked along the edge of the water, letting the warm air and gentle breeze dry him. He, Cory, Topanga, and Dani spent the last few hours at that waterfall spot they came across the other day. He loved it here. This was the one place on the island where he was able to forget about everything and just be. He wasn't sure what it was about it; it was just peaceful.

Both Morgan and Eric had passed on coming out here today. Morgan probably because of her ankle, and since Eric declined after Morgan, he probably stayed because of her.

Dani surprised them when she agreed to come, but they all just took it in stride. She really wasn't that bad when she wasn't trying to push them away.

Shawn stood on the grass close to the waterfall and looked up. "Man, how fun would that be to come down this thing?" he asked no one in particular. "It's like nature's amusement park."

"It would be dangerous," Topanga said. "You're not actually thinking about it are you?"

"Didn't some guy go over Niagara Falls in a barrel or something and survive?" Cory asked. "I'm pretty sure that's quite a bit bigger than this waterfall."

"I'm not actually thinking about it," Shawn said. "I just thought it might be fun. You know—if you took away the whole risk of drowning or smashing your head against a rock thing." He walked further along the grass closer to the waterfall, pausing again once he was almost right next to it. The mist that hit him felt amazing against the heat from the sun. He stood there for a moment just looking. There was a gap between the falling water and the rock behind it. The rock wall must cave in backwards from the top, he guessed. It seemed pretty dark there, though—too dark even for water soaked rock . . . .

"Hey guys," Shawn called. "Come look at this."

Dani was the first to arrive next to him. "It looks like there's a cave behind there," she said.

"Cool," Cory said.

"Wanna check it out?" Shawn asked, not waiting for confirmation from the others before trying to find a way to get to it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Topanga said.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." There was just a slight grassy slope down to some rocks. Many of the rocks were larger. He tested them before stepping on each one, only using those that seemed sturdy, and stayed close to the rock wall until he was able to slip between it and the waterfall into the cave behind it.

It was dark, but enough light filtered through the falling water for him to be able to see. It didn't seem to be very deep. The walls were all algae covered, with the same light grey rock underneath as the outside had. The floor was sloped down towards the water outside of it, the froth from the waterfall bubbling up and lapping at the entrance to the cave.

He looked at the distorted view of the outside world through the waterfall, the colors and images blurred by the rushing water, and found himself wishing he could capture this image somehow. There was something very artistic, ethereal . . . something—he didn't even really know what it was—about it.

Dani's figure emerged from the side moments after he had, followed shortly by both Cory and—surprisingly—Topanga. Cory must have talked her into it somehow. The trio came over and stood by him, looking at it just as he was.

"It's beautiful," Topanga said.

Shawn silently agreed.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx_

Shawn stared blankly at his poetry book. With all of the inspiration he had around him and with as much as he felt the need to write, it should have been much easier to come up with something, but the words just weren't coming to him right now. He closed the book with a sigh and tossed it to the side. He ran his hand through his hair and looked up to catch Dani's gaze. With a mental shrug, Shawn got up and went over to join her.

"A little frustrated there?" she asked.

"How could you tell?" he answered back with a smirk.

She just smirked back. She didn't ask what was bothering him or even what he was doing. It was a nice change from most of the other people in his life. Not that he didn't appreciate the fact that they cared—he just didn't always want to talk about it.

"I think I'm actually starting to get used to it here," he said. Ever since finding that waterfall haven a few days ago, it seemed he was finally able to start accepting the situation for what it was. It was like since he had a new hiding spot, this place was beginning to feel a bit more like—well . . . it still didn't feel like home and never would, but he was at least feeling a little better about all of it.

"It's a beautiful place," she said.

Shawn took in the sights around him—the light tan colored sand, the aqua blue of the ocean, the waves gently rolling into shore, the clear blue sky—and found he agreed with her. "If you take away the whole stranded here thing, it's actually kind of cool. It's like we're the Swiss Family Robinson or something."

"I thought they were also stranded."

"That's fiction. It doesn't really count. Besides, they did alright." His gaze strayed over to Mr. Matthews for a moment—the rock that somehow managed to hold all of them together since they got here. They were doing alright too. For now, at least. He looked back at Dani. "It's like our own little adventure."

Her eyes seemed to take on a vaguely haunted look. "Adventures can be overrated."

Shawn shifted a bit. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what all hid behind that statement. Slightly raised voices drew his attention over to where Morgan was sitting. She was trying to get up while Eric kept trying to insist on helping her. "Bets on how long it takes Morgan to blow up on Eric?"

Dani looked visibly relieved at the subject change. She seemed to gaze over in their direction as well. "I give it a couple seconds."

Shawn joined in Dani's soft countdown.

"Back off Eric. My ankle's sore, not chopped off," Morgan yelled.

Shawn and Dani both chuckled a bit as Eric let Morgan get up herself but still followed behind, ready to offer assistance if she needed it as she hobbled along.

The two teens fell into companionable silence while they sat there people watching. Mr. Matthews and John were both out getting food, firewood, water, and stuff. Topanga was talking to Mrs. Matthews, though Mrs. Matthews' worried gaze was fixed on Morgan. Cory was reading. Shawn raised his eyebrows at that. Cory must be really bored if he was reading something other than a comic book willingly. He hadn't even realized they had any books here. Shawn scrunched his eyes, trying to make out what it even was. His eyes widened when he realized the book looked really familiar.

He stood up without a word and marched over to his friend, grabbing his poetry book out of Cory's hands as soon as he reached him. "You had no right," he said with barely concealed anger.

"Did you write all this?" Cory asked. "I didn't even know you wrote poetry."

"Well, I do," Shawn said, feeling a little defensive. "What of it?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's none of your business. It's just something I do. And I don't like sharing."

"Well, you should. I don't know much about poetry, but it seems pretty good to me."

"What part of 'I don't like sharing' don't you understand? It's personal, so just back off." Shawn walked away, poetry book firmly in hand.

He wasn't even really sure where he was going. He just let his feet do the walking. It didn't come as that much of a surprise when he found himself back at the waterfall. He hesitated only a second before carefully walking down the slight slope and making his way across the rocks to reach the cave behind the waterfall. He stared at the distorted world beyond the waterfall for a long time, just letting his mind wander.

He had grown to really love writing poetry, but the thought of sharing it with others terrified him. What if they didn't like it? It was so personal for him. It revealed things he wasn't comfortable telling anyone. What would they think of him? John seemed okay with it—even encouraged him, but John was an English teacher. It was kind of his job to do that.

Some of the poems he had in there weren't even finished yet or up to his own standards. Even if he were ever comfortable sharing his poems, he was self conscious about the unfinished ones. He wanted to make sure they were perfect before anyone else could see them.

How could Cory do that to him? He knew Cory needed to know everything and couldn't help but meddle. It's simply who he was. He'd been that way for as long as Shawn had known him. He just wished his friend would leave well enough alone, sometimes.

He wasn't sure how long he hid away there before Cory emerged from the side of the waterfall. His friend didn't say a word at first, just walked over to stand beside him and gaze out the waterfall as well.

"I'm sorry," Cory said. "I saw you writing in that book all the time, and I was just curious about what it was. I guess I probably should have asked you first, though."

"Yeah, you should have," Shawn said.

"I'm sorry," Cory said again. The silence stretched on for a few moments. "It really is good, though. Would you be willing to share some of it?"

"Maybe." Shawn looked down at the poetry book he still clutched in his hand. "I'll think about it." Without another word, he left the cave. Cory was right behind him. They walked back to the camp in silence.

The others looked up at the pair when they arrived. Thankfully no one said anything. Shawn sat by himself under a palm tree at the edge of their camp. Cory looked like he had wanted to join him but seemed to get the hint that he wanted to be left alone.

Shawn flipped open his book to scan through all the poems he had. The thought of sharing any of this still made him nervous, but the proverbial cat was out of the bag after his argument with Cory earlier. He knew Cory meant well. He wasn't angry with him—still a little upset, but not angry. Maybe sharing a poem would serve as a peace offering—his way of telling Cory he accepted his apology. He scanned through the book until he came across the perfect poem. It was one of his earlier ones. He wrote it right after he left The Center and moved back in with John. If he got up the courage, maybe he'd share it with everyone later that day.

That decision made, he was a ball of nerves the next several hours. He found his writer's block broken as he poured his insecurities and nervous musings out on the page.

He didn't really talk much at all during dinner. For a change, no one called him out on it. He nervously glanced down at his poetry book, having brought it with him when he came to join the rest of the group. He figured he was slightly less likely to chicken out if he already had it with him. He caught Cory looking at the book and then looking up at him with an expectant look. As if this didn't already feel awkward enough . . . .

Shawn grabbed his book without even thinking about it once it seemed everyone was finishing up. He flipped through the pages until he found the poem he was looking for. Could he really do this? He stared down at the page, trying to find his voice to speak up and say something. The thought of actually sharing just seemed so weird. Maybe he should forget about it for now.

Just as he was about to hide the book away, Cory spoke up. "Hey Shawnie, can you read something you wrote for us?"

Shawn caught John's encouraging smile. He looked around. Everyone seemed interested. "Uh, sure," he said, finally. He had to remind himself breathing was a good thing as he held the book up slightly. He never got nervous during presentations. Why couldn't he keep calm now? Then again, he never invested much in school presentations, so that probably made a difference. "This poem is called 'Family.'" He wanted nothing more than to run and hide back behind that waterfall again. No . . . he had to do this. He could do this. He took a deep breath and began . . . .

_You may think that family is all related by blood,  
That you can know who to count on by looking at your family tree—_  
_Its many branches spanning back through the years_  
_Each one connecting those supposed to be dear to you_  
_With nothing but a thin line and a word or two describing your relation.  
But what if our traditional view of family is nothing more than that fragile piece of paper—_  
_Easily torn with connections so impersonal they barely exist?  
Family is more than just genetics._  
_Blood relation doesn't make a family.  
A true family is there for one another through everything—_  
_Love unconditional and true.  
I'm lucky enough to have a family—_  
_Maybe not the traditional kind, but unlike paper  
Our ties aren't easily torn.  
_

Shawn stared at the page a moment longer after he finished reading before he found the strength to look up and around at his family. John looked proud. The others looked impressed. He felt the nerves ebb away as the others commented on it and complimented him. Maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx_

Gary and Ellie Wilson trudged through the forest with the guy supposed to man their getaway boat. Gary rolled his eyes at his wife, slightly ahead of him. Aside from a few sniping comments, she had pretty much been giving him the silent treatment.

He stalled when he heard voices up ahead. The others did as well. He slowly walked forward, careful to dampen the sound of his footsteps. Through the trees, he could just make out a group of people on the beach. It took him a moment before he recognized them. How the hell did that family survive? Didn't matter though. He and Ellie got the money. That's all they were really after. The plane crash was just to cover their tracks. His eyes narrowed, though, when he saw the black-haired teen with them. That conniving little freak . . . .

His hand strayed to his gun. Quick-Draw already had hers out and cocked. She'd been suspicious of the girl longer than he'd been. It took him until the freak's stunt on the plane before he put the pieces together. He didn't think she'd be that smart—or stupid—despite how tough she played herself off. He thought all their close brushes with the cops after they started blackmailing her were just bad luck or something—even when it happened too often to be coincidental. Now he knew better. That kid had guts.

Gary shot a quick glance over at Ellie, ignoring the cowering waste-of-space boatman behind them. He saw the same fire in her eyes that he was sure was blazing in his own. They were in agreement with this at least. That girl was dead.

The click of another safety coming off a gun sounded behind him. Unless he had been hiding it earlier, the boatman didn't have a gun.

Gary slowly turned around to find a ragtag group of about ten heavily tanned and armed men.


End file.
